The Brother I Lost
by Bookworm579
Summary: Claire Davenport, a smart and wealthy girl from LA, goes on holiday to Forks. There she learns that every town has its secrets, and things are not always what they seem. Yeah, yeah crappy summary. R&R please.
1. Claire Davenport

I peered tiredly out the window of the airplane to see vast expanses of green vegetation and frowned. However, I composed myself quickly. I had chosen this location myself, despite my parents' wishes and expectations; I wasn't going to back out now.

I couldn't suppress the smirk that ensued upon remembering that conversation at the table…

_"Father, Georgiana," I addressed, looking at them as I said their names, respectively. "I wish to make it known to you that I plan to leave soon for a reprieve during the Christmas break." I was not asking._

_Georgiana blinked. "Oh? Where do you plan on going?"_

_"Washington State," I answered vaguely._

_Father chuckled. "I'm afraid there's nothing interesting there, Starlet." I got a hold of myself before I could let the ridiculous pet name get to me._

_"Claire, Father," I corrected him, carefully keeping all traces of annoyance from my voice. My parents cast each other an amused look._

_"Is this about Myles?" asked Georgiana. I stiffened._

_"Myles is irrelevant. I merely need some time off from our busy lifestyle…"_

_"Please remember that we love you both very much." Father beamed as he gushed forth his sugar-coated falsehoods. "You shouldn't dislike him so much; he's your brother after all."_

_I sighed, realizing that there was no longer a discussion, and they were only going to keep up their attempts to make me soften my attitude towards him. I turned and threw over my shoulder coldly, "I'll see you in a month then."_

I released my grip on the armrest of the plane seat and muttered to myself, "Imbeciles, the lot of them."

I plugged in a pair of headphones and twisted a lock of my layered, chin length, ash-blonde hair. My attire was simple: a pair of sleek black pants, under an untucked men's cobalt button up shirt, and a pair of brown penny loafers. I hadn't bothered to dress down; I wasn't going to stay long anyway, so fitting in with the local townsfolk seemed unnecessary. I wouldn't be doing much socializing anyway.

The plane landed, and I made my way from my first class seat to the exit. Once outside I flipped out a pair of Gucci sunglasses, though I didn't put them on. I furrowed my brow as I noticed the cloud coverage and checked my Rolex watch. A quarter after two in the afternoon. It was impossible to tell what time it was without a watch in a town perpetually cloudy such as Forks. Ah well, the inconvenience wouldn't kill me.

I collected my bags at the airport. A fairly small Coach suitcase, and a pet carrier containing my grey hairless cat, Jessie.

"Calm down, girl," I replied to her panicked howling. She stared up at me with wide blue eye and let out a smaller mew.

I rented a car on my way out of the airport; a silver Jaguar convertible, much like the one Father had gotten me when I'd gotten my permit. He'd gotten me about three more cars since then, and I was only sixteen. Well, seventeen this month. My birthday was on the 24th, Christmas Eve.

I hadn't actually arrived in Forks yet, as the town was too small to actually have an airport. So I drove an hour from the airport into the microscopic town and found a hotel that was entire stars below my standards, though it would suit my needs for a month.

I allowed Jessie to roam about the room and explore her surroundings, smirking to myself as she pawed my suitcase and mewed. She must have smelled the food I'd packed for her.

I grabbed her personalized dish and filled it with her favorite food. I had run tests on almost every brand of cat food on the market, and determined that this one was the most nutritious and life enhancing, while at the same time being flavorful. She mewed delightedly as she leaped soundlessly from the bed and began to eat. I knelt, scratching her hairless head and extremely large ears.

Jessie eventually stopped and curled up next to me, purring. For a rare moment I smiled, petting her skinny, fuzzy body and hearing her purr. I sat like this for some minutes before deciding that I should unpack and such.

I had brought little: some clothes, all of which were similar to my current outfit, personal hygiene products, pet supplies, my laptop. The essentials. I looked in the mirror and grabbed a comb, seeing that I was ruffled from my flight. I smoothed my hair, which was untidy and dull. I would need a shower.

My late older brother, Joseph, had often joked that I looked like Yuna from Final Fantasy, mostly because of my odd hair color that resembled a sort of grayish blonde. It always dried with the individual pieces flipped outwards, much like Yuna's hair as well. Joseph had always loved his video games.  
My face was fair, eerily so, an attribute Myles pointed out to his friends at every chance he could get. I had the coldest blue eyes of the family. My eyes were my weapons; a well formed icy glare from me could cause a person to freeze where he stood.

I smirked to myself, an uninviting expression, and turned to shower.


	2. Caffeine Fix

As you may already be able to tell, my family had come into some money over the years. My father was a businessman, and my mother (my real mother) had inherited a large sum of money after her father died. Georgiana, the woman I had been told would be replacing my mother after she'd died, owned a massive cosmetic company. My stepbrother Myles seemed to only be concerned with spending money, buying cars, yachts, a jet. How I loathed them all.

The following morning, it rained heavily. I strode down the street, huddling in my black Burberry trenchcoat. I loved the rain in its entire icy grey splendor, but alas, I would catch cold if I didn't wear a coat, thus ruining this entire trip, and we wouldn't want that.

It was early, about eight in the morning, and I was in need of strong caffeine. A small coffee shop ahead caught my eye. I wasn't Starbucks, but it would do.

I slipped inside, shuddering at the bells that treacherously announced my presence. The small group of teens that had been talking with a boy at the counter stopped and stared my way. Ugh. People.

I stalked to the counter. No one was around besides them, making me squirm. I approached the counter, behind which waited a tall, lanky boy who seemed about my age.

"One tall Italian roast, black, piping hot, no sugar; a Green tea with honey and lemon juice, also no sugar; then I'll need a French roast with cream, exactly one tablespoon of raw cane sugar, extra caffeine, make sure it's hot as well; and to top it off I'll also have one of those delightful smelling blueberry muffins," I ordered calmly in a voice as light as frost: I was too tired to be full on cold. "Would you like me to repeat that?"

"Uh…" the boy at the counter gaped at me as though I'd asked him to eat his own hand. Hoping to urge him into doing as I asked, I whipped out my checkbook. The other teens stared at me.

"Sometime _today_, if you please," I said in a sharper, more impatient voice. He nodded, glancing around obviously to see if I had any friends with me that I would be sharing these drinks with, and seeing that there were none, he stared at me a last time before getting on my order.

"What's your name?" he asked with a cup in on hand and a sharpie in the other.

I replied, "Claire," and sat at a far table, bringing out my laptop.

I went through my daily routine of checking my e-mail, my accounts, my stocks, that sort of thing. All was well. Myles hadn't destroyed anything. Yet.

Ten minutes later, I heard the boy call, "Claire! Your drinks are up!" I closed my laptop and got up. I carefully positioned the cups and muffin in my hands so I wouldn't spill them, ever aware of the others' scrutiny as I handled my drinks alone. I finally managed, and stalked back towards my seat. However, on the way, My Italian roast slipped, and tumbled towards the floor. I gasped, stepping away to keep the staining of my shoes and pants to a minimum. The boy behind the counter, whom I hadn't noticed beside me, caught the cup with incredible reflexes, and handed it to me with an expression of pure calmness and reassurance that I nearly dropped my other coffee, which would have made me very angry.

It was the first time I actually noticed him. He had a soft face, one which put mine to shame in terms of whiteness. His long strawberry blonde hair was messy, in a bedhead sort of style. The feature I found most interesting, however, was his eyes. His eyes were pure black, and he had dark circles under his lower lids, as though he hadn't slept well. I stared up at him, my own eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Thank you," I forced myself to say, snatching up the coffee and sitting down again. The boy sat down across from me, smiling in a friendly manner.

At first I ignored him, returning to my accounts and such, but I at last had to address him in my most wonderfully cold voice.

"Do you need, something?" I never took my eyes from the screen.

He shook his head. "I was hoping to talk to you. Those other guys are boring me."

"I'm afraid your hopes were ill-placed, and that you will only be bored further."

He chuckled. "Well aren't you modest…" He stopped when I finally treated him to my most condescending glare.

"It is not modesty that makes me say this, as that is not a trait I possess," my tone was even, but warning, "but truthfulness. I have no desire to talk, so I would be most grateful if you were to leave me."

"Ouch," he said, though he was grinning. "Alright, I'll leave you alone." He got up to return to his job. "By the way, my name's Anthony. Anthony Rose."

_I didn't ask for your name, you…_ I growled maliciously in my mind. I found my gaze slipping back to his dead-looking black eyes, making him smirk in a knowing manner. I remained silent, returning to my computer.

When I had finished my coffee, tea, and muffin, I left briskly to explore some of the town.


	3. No Place Like Home

Jessie was waiting patiently by the door when I returned. She mewed in greeting, and I knelt to stroke her skinny back. She arched it, purring.

I got up and started on a postcard to my family, as they would worry if I didn't contact them at all. And if they worried, they'd send someone, most likely Myles, to come fetch me, and I would sooner devour Jessie than let my stepbrother come for me.

I stared at the postcard, tapping a pen to my chin.

_"So you won't be home for the holidays? That's a shame." Myles leaned in my doorway. I forced my back and shoulder muscles to remain relaxed._

_"Go Myles," I bade calmly, "I'm busy."_

_"Aw, be a good sport, we're not going to see each other for a whole month." He laughed in his usual annoying way. "Who knows? Maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder, and we'll learn to like each other finally."_

_I scoffed. He didn't believe that, and we both knew it. "I highly doubt that."_

_"Hm… yeah, I do too. Just do me one favor, eh, _Starlet_?"_

_"I have no reason to do so, but I am curious to know what you could possibly ask of me."_

_He leaned in, a most wicked and condescending look on his face. "Don't forget who you are," he hissed, grinning demonically._

_I glowered at him, then straightened myself and pointed to the door. "The exit. Make use of it."_

"_I'm just making sure your little adventure doesn't make you think that you're any more than what you are, any more than me."_

"Get out!_" My voice rarely elevated. He knew that this was the time to stop and leave._

_He merely chuckled. In his mind he had to aggravate me a last time before I left. His little goodbye present._

_Myles moved towards a door which I kept under electronic lock. It required a combination only I knew. He effortlessly punched it in, without a single pause. He smirked and entered my most private of chambers._

_I was after him in an instant, grabbing up a pen. "Get out of there!" I shouted as I ran. He emerged, holding up a bottle of cologne. I froze._

I stared hard at the postcard, fresh waves of hatred washing over me. Not even Jessie's concerned purring could break the spell that had been put on me. I was gripping the pen like a weapon, remembering how it had felt in my hand just a few days before.

"_You know, I really should tell them about this place. I'm sure it isn't healthy."_

"_Put. It. Back."_

_He relished my helplessness, my sheer inability to stop him. My glare would have no effect on him; he was the only person I knew of that was immune to it. "I'm just letting you know again, so you don't forget what you are."_

"_Like I could," I hissed under my breath, a momentary lapse of composure. I shot a malicious glare at him, brandishing my pen. "Give it back."_

"_It's so stupid, really, that you keep a shrine like this to them."_

"_I swear, Myles, I'll hurt you."_

_He laughed; He saw straight through my bluff. Myles examined the cologne. "How much was this, anyway? It's looks cheap, if you ask me." I flushed, taking a step forward. He dropped it._

_The bottle shattered, along with my composure. I trembled, kneeling to pick up the pieces. My eyes must have been huge as I stared at one of my last presents to Joseph._

_The breath left my lungs, like my chest were being compressed by a giant's hand. "What have you done?" I hissed around the acidic tears._

"_Pathetic," he chuckled. "You're nuts, a freak. I wish you could see yourself now, you…" I stood so abruptly he stopped mid sentence._

"You_." The word was a breath, so faint with fury he looked at me with wide eyes. I brought my fist back, and the next thing we knew he was on the ground, several bruises by his temples and one eye. My knuckles hurt, and a little cut had been opened on one._

"_Oh Myles!" I called loud enough for my parents to hear, "Are you alright?" I quick as lightning punched numbers into the keypad, putting it in lockdown. Thankfully the lock had a backup voice-activated system that would respond to my voice patterns alone. He wouldn't be breaking into this vault anytime soon._

"_Myles! Myles!" I said, mimicking panic. Dear God, I think he was unconscious. I grinned._

One of the few moments of satisfaction I'd had since before my brother had died. I finally started writing, scribbling about having a wonderful time here in Washington. I didn't dare mention the name of the town, knowing Myles would find me. All I wanted was a month of peace, before I went back to the slaughterhouse.

"_Claire, darling, are you alright?" asked Georgiana, running into the room, eyes wide with concern. I quickly hid my pleasure at seeing Myles half conscious on the floor, and looked to Georgiana. "He hit his head, I think. Wasn't paying attention."_

_She hesitated, the tiniest flicker of doubt in her eyes. I knew how to douse it._

"_I think he's hurt… M-Mother," I gagged on the word as I would with a badly-seasoned piece of raw meat, but at least she'd heard it. She cleared up immediately. I checked my watch. "Oh no, my plane!" I gasped. I threw some more things into my bag and ran for it. I didn't want to be anywhere near here when he got his head straight. I stashed Jessie in her carrier and sprinted out the door to my car._

I read over my postcard. I couldn't send an e-mail, because Myles would be able to trace the IP address. He was just as practiced with computers and such as I.

I sighed and looked out the window. Even I wasn't willing to fight my way through weather like that to mail a card. It would have to wait till tomorrow.

I grabbed a pay per view catalogue and flipped through it, then looked over at Jessie. "Phantom of the Opera, The Borne Supremacy, or both?"

oOo

"What are you _doing_?" someone behind me hissed as I crouched on a tree branch. I had sensed his presence ages before he'd spoken, I just hadn't acknowledged him.

I ignored him, instead listening intently as the girl in the motel room twenty feet away prattled on to seemingly no one how horrid the movie was.

"You've come here almost every other night and done nothing but sit here and observe."

I still ignored him. _Don't encourage him, and he'll eventually give up and go home. _Pfft. Yeah, like that would ever happen. This guy was relentless, and he was always prying into my business. It was like he was just waiting for me to screw up. I mentally shrugged. Ah well, I couldn't blame him for anticipating the inevitable.

"What's her deal?" I murmured, half to my stalker and half to myself.

I felt him scowl behind me. "It doesn't matter what her 'deal' is, what matters is that you're spending so much time spying on her." He sighed, then asked in a concerned tone, "Is the temptation too strong here? Do you need to take time off and stay at home for a few days?"

I snorted. "It's not like that, though she does have an interesting aroma. She just… intrigues me."

He shook his head. "You should come with us tomorrow. It'll straighten your head."

"Eh," I replied distastefully, not at all liking what his proposal entailed. I'd take him up on it, though. I wanted to delay my screw up for a while at least this time.

"Come on, let's go home."

I sighed in resignation, climbing from the tree and following him into the darkness.


	4. Something to do

I lay in bed, still dressed, above the covers. I must have fallen asleep during one of the dozen or so perfectly dreadful features I'd ordered.

Jessie, seeing that I was awake, began meowing for me to feed her. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and obliged, then sat next to her to watch her eat.

The next few days began like this, and each day I went out and explored town. However, I could only do so much driving and exploring before I practically knew the town like my hand, and had to find something else to do to pass my days.

It had been only a week since I'd arrived in Forks, and already I was out of things to do. I lay back again. I was Claire Davenport, and Claire Davenport never ran out of ideas. I thought, hard.

I remembered someone had said something about hiking. To be frank, physical activity was not one of my strong suits; however, I was so desperate that just about anything would do. I got up, changed out of my dirty clothes into some that looked quite similar. I got my coat and left, making sure I had a cellular phone in my pocket. I stopped at a gas station, and while I was paying I asked about good hiking trails. The man behind the counter spoke of several, and I asked which would be most populated. I chose the one least traveled, hoping to lessen the chances of running into any _real_ hiking enthusiasts, who would most likely talk to me, an amateur, about the wonderful pastime. And that simply would not do.

I drove. It was noon by now, though the thought of food didn't cross my mind. I rarely ate more than two meals a day.

The sun was out, a marvelous and unlikely event. I wouldn't need my coat after all, though the sunglasses were still unneeded.

I parked beside a forest, by the trail the man had told me of. I was reassured when I saw how wide and large the trail was, and how difficult it would be to get lost. Smirking to myself, I entered the forest.

The forest was blanketed in green. Moss carpeted stones, trees, and the ground, ferns were in an excess, shrubs were scattered in vast amounts across the forest floor. I had to force myself not to cringe. I hadn't seen the color green in such criminal excess since St. Patrick's Day.

I wandered on the trail for several hours, hands in my pockets, humming broken tunes of songs I could barely remember…

"_Why are you always listening to these old records?"_

_Ten-year-old Joseph shrugged. "I don't know. I just like the classics I guess."_

_I gingerly took a large record from his desk and handled it with as much care as I possibly could. My older brother went back to whatever he had been doing on his computer, trusting me not to break it. My five-year-old hands caressed the record, and I was about to set it back down when three-year-old Myles toddled into the room._

_His large blue eyes didn't miss anything, and before I knew it, he had snatched the vinyl from my little hands. I let out a tiny gasp, making Joseph turn around in his chair, and tried to reclaim the disc, though Myles would have none of it. He kept turning away from me whenever I reached for it, and was becoming more and more irritated by my meddling._

"_Myles, you can't…" I began. Myles, clearly annoyed, dropped the record. Thankfully Joseph's room had thick carpeting, so the vinyl was not harmed. The small boy whirled around and shoved me with all his force onto the floor. I fell, as I was only about an inch taller than he, and landed on my backside._

"_Stupid!" he hissed._

"_Myles," said Joseph authoritatively, "Don't take things that aren't yours, don't push Claire, and don't say stupid."_

_Myles' eyes narrowed as he glowered at Joseph, but even he wasn't 'stupid' enough to fight with a ten-year-old. He glared down at me, and aimed a good kick at my torso, but just as he was about to strike, my brother swooped in and bodily grabbed him. Myles began to howl and scream in protest. No doubt Joseph would drag to boy to his room and make his nanny deal with him._

_My older brother returned some minutes later and locked the door. "That'll keep the little creature out," he grumbled. I quickly got up from where I had been sitting and said an embarrassed 'thank you'._

"_Don't feel bad; he should've known better than to push you." He shook his head. "That kid scares me. He's way too violent." I shook my head vigorously in agreement, making him chuckle. "Want to play Mario Party or something?"_

"_Sure," was my reply. I beamed._

oOo

"_You suck at video games."_

_I clenched my jaw. Would Myles stop at nothing to put me down?_

"_You were supposed to go right there, not left! Didn't you read the cheatbook beforehand?"_

"_We like to figure things out on our own," twelve-year old Joseph said shortly. Even the ever-enduring Joseph was getting annoyed by Myles' constant commenting._

"_Lemme play!" the five-year old growled._

"_My hands are cramping up anyway," I admitted, relinquishing the controller to my young half-brother. He played well at first, then crashed his vehicle into a wall._

_I kept the smugness from my face as I knelt and reached for the controller. "There's a trick…"_

"_No!" he shrieked viciously, turning away from me. Joseph winced._

"_She's only trying to help."_

"_I don't need it!"_

_Joseph let out an exasperated, I'd-rather-be-anywhere-but-here sigh. "Claire, didn't you say you needed me to fix your clock/radio?"_

_I caught on quickly. "Yes."_

_We both exited his den, leaving Myles to his own devices. He paused at the door, and I could see that he was considering locking the boy in._

"_Nah," he decided aloud, knowing that I understood. "He'll only pitch a fit and break something."_

_I sighed, disappointed, then led him to my room to find my broken clock._

oOo

I turned about to find that I could no longer see the path. My eyes darted in all directions, searching nervously for the wide dirt path. How could I have let my memories take control of me like that?

"The day is still young," I said to myself, "I'll just look around for the path and follow it back. This hiking thing is murdering my poor feet."

I stumbled disgracefully, but thankfully quietly, through the forest, searching for the path. I stopped still, however, when I saw a creature huddled over what looked to be a large animal carrion.


	5. An Unpleasant Surprise

My breath came in short bursts as I silently prayed the creature wouldn't glance in my direction. My eyes were huge. I stared.

The creature was drenched in blood, making a sort of slurping noise. I grew faint and tasted bile as I saw that the creature was not in fact animal, but human.

I staggered backwards, resting my hand on a tree for support. I felt clammy, shaking uncontrollably as I watched the person drink the puma's blood. Thankfully the human was so absorbed in its (for I couldn't tell the gender) feast that it didn't notice me.

"Oh my God…" I breathed, suddenly feeling the need for ice cold water. "Oh my _God_…"

The person finished his feast with a last sickening slurp, then sat up straight. It turned, looking straight at me with inhuman amber eyes. I turned even whiter.

The person drinking the puma's blood was Anthony Rose.

I stood, frozen, as he prepared to spring at me. My feet shuffled clumsily backwards until they caught a root, causing me to trip and fall and my backside. I was lightheaded, ready to black out.

Anthony crouched, and no sooner had he sprung that a pair of other boys lunged, grabbing each of his arms and pinning him to a tree.

I stared, watching as the two boys held Anthony, and believed that they were speaking to him, but I couldn't hear.

Eventually one of the boys, one that looked about my age, released him and strode up to me. I crawled backwards, shaking as I stared up at him in panic.

"Calm down," he ordered quietly. I began to hyperventilate, rolling onto my side and curling into a ball. _It's the end, it's the end, it's the end..._ He sighed and picked me up, effortlessly, and broke into a run.

It felt like I was going sideways on a roller coaster. I clutched his shirt to keep from vomiting or screaming or both.

He at last stopped and set me down. I rolled onto my hands and knees and heaved. The boy looked down at me in an expression that mingled between sympathy and distaste.

"I'm sorry," he said. I recognized him as one of the teens at the coffee shop. "You weren't supposed to see that…" I retched again at the memory of Anthony, wild-looking like a shark in a feeding frenzy, kneeling beside the puma as he slurped up its blood. My entire body wouldn't stop shaking. I moved towards my car, as that was where he had taken me in a matter of seconds. I folded, on my knees, and clutched my chest, pressing my forehead into the ground.

"Are you alright?" asked the boy.

I couldn't answer, though I wanted to scream, 'what on earth do you think?!'

I merely shook.

After a few minutes of me curled on the ground shivering, he decided that I would live. He knelt and hissed in my ear, so faint I couldn't be sure if it was just a trick of the wind, "You will say nothing, and forget that you ever came to this place."

I looked up to find he was gone.

The ground felt so disgustingly warm, radiating heat onto my face, making me sick. I needed water, something cold to counteract the sickly heat.

I crawled into my car, locking the doors, and started it, turning the AC dial down as low as it would go. I curled up in the passenger seat.

The icy air washed over me, allowing me to breathe. I released a relieved sigh.

_I ran from the room, hyperventilating, light headed._

"_Claire!" called Joseph. I lay curled up on the ground, sweating and breathing hard. "Too gory?" I nodded furiously, not caring that my face was squashed against the dirty carpet of the movie theater. I was almost nine._

"_What a baby," scoffed Myles, looking down on me as he clutched his boxes of candy. He had just come out from his kiddie movie._

_I scrunched myself in a ball, silently begging him to leave me be._

"_Go away, Myles. Our movie was a lot scarier than yours."_

_The young boy sniffed mockingly. "What's the point of doing anything with her if she's going to just run and hide from everything?" Tears welled in my eyes, ashamed of my weakness._

"_Go, Myles," Joseph said again, warning this time. Myles rolled his eyes, devoured an entire box of Raisinets, dropped the box on me, and waddled away. _

_Joseph picked up the box and threw it away, then knelt beside me, stroking my shoulder._

"_I'm sorry…" I mumbled._

oOo

"What was that?!" Edward shouted at me when he got back. I rubbed my forehead and wiped the blood off my chin with my sleeve, gazing up at him with am mutinous expression. True, I had sensed her coming ages before she'd stumbled across me, Ed, and Emmet. I'd wanted her to come, though.

"It's not my fault."

"Of course it's your fault! It's _always_ your fault!"

"Edward, calm down," Emmet snapped. Apparently he was sick of our constant bickering. It wasn't my fault we were opposite ends of the spectrum.

As far as I was concerned, nothing was my fault.

"Jeez, well aren't you the over-reactor."

"What's stopping her from calling the police and reporting you?! The greater portion of town knows that you're affiliated with the Cullens, so what will we say when Chief Swan comes banging on our door??"

"Aw, worried that Bella's daddy won't like you anymore if he finds out your friend's a freak? Or worse, what if he finds out _you_ are?" His fists clenched, and he looked as though he wanted to rip my face off and feed it to me. I'd seriously hit a nerve.

He took a step, causing Emmet to step between us. "Come on, let's join up with the others." I opened my mouth to say something, but he shot me a fierce look and said in a low voice, "And I don't want to hear a word from either of you."

Edward glared openly at me. Stupid, perfect, _Edward_, always the one in the right. I knew that he thought he was better than me; I'd seen pieces of his thoughts myself. In fact, I was pretty sure that he knew that I knew that he thought he was next to God.

And why shouldn't he think he was better? After all, he had a family and all, people to fall back on in the rare event that he made a mistake, and he had such _control _over his little hunger pangs. And on top of his blindingly perfect perfection, he had the sweet, adorable damsel Bella Swan.

Edward stared intently at the back of Emmet's neck, but I knew he was digging around in my head for something to use against me. It was his one fault I guess: he couldn't respect people's privacy by leaving their thoughts alone. I thought up several rude images, making him 

look daggers at me. Emmet craned his head to look back at us, so I stuck my hands in my pockets like an innocent schoolboy.

"How was it?" asked Carlisle cheerfully when we caught up to them.

"Oh, it was a _blast_." My voice oozed sarcasm. "Tea, crumpets, the whole shebang."

The ancient doctor cast a concerned glace at Edward, who currently looked like he was ready kill something, then Emmet. "That bad?"

"A girl was hiking and saw him feeding, and well…"

"It's only natural that you'd go after your normal prey, especially while you were already overwhelmed with the smell of blood," he reassured.

"Eh," I muttered. I hated it when people tried to make me feel better for stuff I didn't feel guilty about.

"Alice," Edward asked her, his voice low and urgent, "Is she going to contact anyone?"

The girl took on a vacant expression for a few brief moments, then she answered him quietly, "I can't see anything. She hasn't decided yet."

"Probably sleeping," I mumbled.

"Beg pardon?" questioned Esme.

"She shouts her memories like a megaphone, so from what I've seen I can guess she'll probably sit in her car and shake like a leaf for a while, let the AC blast over her, and pass out or something. Ask Edward, he'll know more than me."

He nodded in confirmation. "She crumbles when faced with any kind of pressure, conflict, or threat. Very emotional; she lets her feelings dominate half of what she does, despite the fact that she's quite intelligent."

"She has nothing to show to the police, Edward," Carlisle said in a lighter tone. "And she probably doesn't want to involve herself in any kind of investigation."

"Yes," he agreed reluctantly. He was through being angry and on to just plain scared. He must really not want to have to leave this place. I mentally shrugged. Not my problem.

Edward sighed, and rubbed his temples, too out of it to shoot any more hateful glances at me.

"Well, as long as everyone's finished, I think we'll return home now."

"Shoot, I forgot my spare clothes," I said as I looked down at my tattered, bloody appearance.

"Where are they?"

"By that log next to the stream. I'll run and get them real quick."

"Very well. Don't be long." Carlisle led the way, breaking into a run, followed by Esme, Emmet, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice.

Edward remained behind for the briefest of seconds, gazing at me with a helpless expression. The look he gave me was so utterly, horribly pathetic, that it made even me squirm. Ugh. Why should I feel even remotely responsible for what happened? I scowled.

I sprinted away at vampire speed, relishing the wind that rushed past my face. _Cry me a river, Cullen_, I spat in my mind, _Cry me a river._


	6. Phantom of the Opera and Flashbacks

I sat up abruptly, shivering. I looked around and, seeing that it was dusk, realized I must have fallen asleep. I sighed, rubbing my temples tiredly, and turned the air conditioner to a more normal setting.

I scooted to the driver seat and clutched the steering wheel. I was torn between alerting the authorities that there were teen predators on the loose in the forest, and heeding the boy's instructions to forget what I'd seen.

I rubbed my forehead, deciding to oblige to the latter. I had no evidence, and I most certainly had no desire to involve myself in some sort of crime here; it would give my position away to my family, and they'd rush me back, back to _Myles_. Besides, I had fallen asleep. Who was to say the entire thing hadn't been a dream?

A flutter of white made me stop dead.

A note, under my windshield wiper.

I looked around, and seeing that no one was nearby, opened the door. I tripped over my own feet as I rushed to windshield and snatched up the note, then stumbled back into the car. I shut and locked the door quickly, then unfolded it, tearing an edge in the process.

_**Clair,**_

_**Sorry you had to see that. I have to ask you to please, please tell no one about what you saw. It's extremely important. **__**If you do, I know where you live.**_

_**AR**_

I stared for a long moment. Apparently it wasn't a dream. My eyes narrowed as I gawked at the hastily scrawled note, noting how he had crossed out the 'I know where you live' portion. I would need to talk to Anthony tomorrow. For now, however, I needed to get back to my hotel room.

oOo

Jessie mewed quietly in greeting, as though sensing something was not right. I sighed as I collapsed onto my bed, still holding the note. I set the piece of paper on my nightstand, knowing that I would need to deal with this tomorrow. I put on some of my Egyptian cotton pajamas and put in the movie _Phantom of the Opera_, one of the films I hadn't gotten to last night. I flopped exhaustedly back onto the bed, closing my eyes as I listened to the main theme. I had read the book when I was about seven, and seen the Broadway musical with Joseph some years later.

"_Ooh, Phantom of the Opera, I'm so scared!" mocked Myles. Of course._

"_It's not meant just to be frightening," I defended the classic, "It's about madness, obsession, music of course, romance…"_

"_Ick. Well then that explains why _you_ like it."_

"_Leave her alone, Myles. The book is actually really good. Here," Joseph handed Myles the book, which the younger boy snatched rather rudely.  
After mere seconds of inspection, he tossed it back to Joseph. "Too long."_

_My brother and I sighed in unison. Myles could be so irritating._

I watched as Christine sang 'Think of Me', catching the attention of all the room's occupants. My eyes narrowed as I heard the new actress' voice, preferring the classic version myself.

I lay back, resting my eyes and allowing my mind to wander…

_I was fifteen, shaking with indignation._

_"I refuse to take them!" I shouted as loud as I possibly could. "Mother wouldn't have…"_

_"Your mom died when you were less than a year old," Myles hissed, "How would you know anything about her?"_

_I set my icy gaze on him and growled viciously, "This matter is no concern of yours, so I would like it very much if you would _butt out_." I was lashing out at whatever I could, as on edge as a caged wild animal._

_"Sta… eh, Claire," Father began pleadingly, "We know Joe's death has been hard on you, and we just…"  
"'Joe?'" I screeched in indignation. "He hated being called Joe!" I gave him a malicious glare as I prepared to strike below the belt. "How can you possibly understand how I feel, or know what's best for me, when you barely knew your own son?"_

_Father and Georgiana stared at me, and Myles sat back, knowing that I had destroyed myself with my inability to control my tongue._

_"Claire," Father said in a lower tone, "I only want you to be happy. Take a shower, change your clothes, go outside, meet people. For heaven's sake, you barely know anyone at your school anymore!"_

_I knew why that was. My peers had never really liked me, nor had I liked them. The only reason I'd had friends at all was because of my popular brother. I was a stranger, someone who could only be accepted when Joseph was around. Without Joseph, no one wanted me. My friends had gradually left me, as Joseph had._

_I composed myself and prepared to speak when Myles piped up, "Please, Claire, we're worried about you. Stop this crazy stuff and just take the meds."_

_The breath escaped my throat in a faint hiss. I could see exactly what he was doing. His tone was subtly condescending; I was crazy, he was normal. I was weak and pathetic, he was strong and able. His tone gave the illusion that he was better, that _I_ needed _his_ help._

_I stood, signifying that I was finished with this absurd discussion, and said in a low voice, "I will not take drugs of any kind. I will attempt to…" I almost gagged on the blatant lie, "branch out more, however, any medication given to me will cause me to backslide. I ask that you respect my wishes to not ingest any form of unnecessary medication…"_

Christine was now in the Phantom's lair, and he was singing 'Music of the Night'. She was utterly entranced. How stupid, I mused, to be put under the control of such poorly sung music. Of course, that was just my opinion. When this new adaptation had come out, Joseph had looked up some of the songs on Youtube, and had found many fangirls of both the Phantom and Gerard Butler himself. I personally couldn't understand the attraction to him.

The Phantom's power over Christine reminded me of someone I knew.

_"But Myles can't have Joseph's room!" I gasped, chasing Myles and Father up the stairs to our highest room, Joseph's old room._

_"It's not like he's going to be using it." Myles attempted to feign innocence, but I could hear the sneer hidden beneath the layers of his voice._

_I panted as I grabbed Father's sleeve. "You can't! We have plenty of other rooms that currently go unused, why can't Myles choose one of them?"_

_"Well… he does have a point, Starlet, Joseph won't need it anymore…"_

_Alarm gripped my chest as I pulled harder on the sleeve to no avail. "But we have to keep it the same!" I was near hyperventilating at this point, on the verge of having a panic attack._

_"Starlet, you worry me. It's bad enough that you've started wearing his clothes," I looked down at myself to see Joseph's pale blue button up shirt, "but now you're collecting his things…"_

_"I must! If I do not preserve his memory, who will?"_

_"Nonsense, Starlet," Father chuckled, "We'll always remember him, now stop worrying."_

Nonsense.Stop worrying.

_Why was it that those same words that Joseph had once spoken to me and brought relief, now brought no comfort whatsoever?_

_"Besides, I don't want any of those stupid rooms, I want this one."_

_"You can't have it!" I shouted, spit flying in Myles' face. He paused, giving me a hard stare._

_"I'll go up and let you two talk this out," Father sighed._

_The moment he was gone, Myles grabbed the collar of my shirt and shoved me into the wall. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?" he hissed. "You're a freak, a complete lunatic. You have no say in this, so _get out of my way_!"_

_I trembled. He was two years younger, yet I still found myself weakening as I heard his words. I may have the power to silence, but he had the power to convince. It was his gift, his talent, and when combined with the need to control, it made him quite formidable._

_"Please," I resorted to begging, "You can't… you simply _can't_…"_

_"Watch me," he spat._

_He swept me to the side, surprisingly strong despite his age. I fell hard, hitting my shoulder on the edge of a stair and letting out a nearly inaudible whimper of pain. Myles was already stalking away. I shuddered on the ground, hating how pathetically weak I was that I couldn't even preserve Joseph's memory…_

I focused intently on the movie, trying now to ignore all the little thoughts that tried to distract me. Despite my efforts, however, I found myself glancing at the scrap of paper Anthony had left on my windshield. I would need to find him tomorrow, ask him what in heaven's name he had been doing.

Jessie curled up beside me, ready for sleep. I followed her example, and soon found myself falling asleep to Christine and Raul professing their love for each other in 'All I Ask'.


End file.
